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bow of the boat beside his towel and went to the back. The young man looked at the nighttime sky filled with stars and full moon, trying to push the image of the football slipping through his fingers out of his mind. He stepped onto the side of the boat and jumped into the river.
The cold took his breath away as he hit the water. Jack reached the surface and gasped. He felt numb all over and went back down again to try to get use to the chilly temperature. The current rushed around him. When Jack opened his eyes, he could see that the river had taken him about thirty yards from the boat. He was now in the middle of the river, and he could not touch the bottom.
As he began to swim back, the young man started to get tired and realized the current of the river was much stronger than he had anticipated. The boat was getting further away from him by the second. Jack turned straight towards the island and swam for the bank. It did not take long for him to realize it was a futile effort. He stopped and concentrated on staying afloat.
“Dad!” Jack yelled. “Help!” He called again.
Robert was listening to the final weather report. The announcement told him that a storm in North Carolina would be swelling the river making the fishing difficult. He planned that he and Jack could spend Saturday morning exploring the river some. He cut off the radio in time to hear the faint cry of his son. Robert thought Jack was just calling him to come go swimming. He said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes son! Just stay by the boat!” He went into the tent to put on his swim trunks and flip-flops and headed to the river.
By the time, his dad got to the boat Jack was on the other end of the island still caught in the current of the river. He shook from the chill of the water and wished he had listened to his dad. Suddenly something hit his leg. Jack tried to stand thinking he had come on shallow water. Instead, he felt the water wrap around his legs and pull him under!
Jack struggled with his hands to brake free but spiraled down. He saw the stream of bubbles from his noise and mouth as his lungs started to burn. He closed his mouth and eyes as tight as he could in a desperate attempt to save any air that might be in his lungs. His arms and legs went from numb to limp and the blackness of the river invaded his mind.
Robert reached the boat and called out his son’s name. He dropped his towel, turned the electric lantern sitting on the bow of the boat to flashlight mode, and scanned the riverbank.
“Jack!” he called. He scanned the river but saw nothing. Panic began to fill his mind and he pushed the boat off the beach and jumped in. “Jack!” He felt his worst fears begin to materialize as he started the engine. He knew the rain from that storm was coming and the current would be strong. Robert also knew his son was a strong young man who had a good head on his shoulders. He hoped that he remembered to get out of an undertow you had to swim straight towards the bank when you have reached a smooth spot.
For hours, he drove up and down the river calling his son’s name and searching franticly for him. Finally, he steered the boat back to the island and raced to the tent. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911. After he called the rescue team, he called his wife.
“Honey,” he started trying to compose himself. “Call everyone in the church and start praying.” He said softly. “Jack’s missing.”


CHAPTER TWO
Robert’s thirty-eight year old wife Fran had always been a strong anchor for the family. That morning she had been busy cleaning wearing a pink robe and curlers. After her husband told her the news; however, she felt every bit of strength leave her. She sat down in the chair at the kitchen table and began to cry.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Mary asked. The seventeen-year-old had been in the den watching cartoons and eating cereal when she heard her mom’s cry. The young woman came running to her mother’s aid.
Mary tried to get her mom to control herself and look at her.
Fran looked up at her daughter and shook her head. All she could get out was “My baby!”
“Jack?” Mary asked and felt fear grip her heart. She remembered their fight the day before as she asked, “Mom, what’s wrong? Is he in the hospital? Is he sick?” Mary knelt beside her mother and held her. “Mom, tell me! What’s wrong with Jack?”
Fran tried to control herself. “Your brother went swimming last night without your father,” she sobbed. “Now he’s gone!”
“No!” Mary screamed.
“They're looking for Jack now; your father has called 911 early this morning. He wants us to call the family along with the church people and pray. He told me he just has not found him. He said Jack must have got caught in the current and carried down river.”
“Okay,” Mary said, trying to help her mom focus. “Let’s do what dad said. I will use my cell phone and call grandma and Aunt Sue. You call Pastor Gregg.” Fran nodded and rose from the table to do what she could to help her family. While his family struggled to cope with Jack’s
disappearance; the youth had no idea his troubles were just beginning.
Jack could hold his breath no longer. He felt he was still in the river. Expecting to feel water rushing in through his mouth and nose he accepted that he was about to die. However, when he breathed in, cool morning air filled his lungs forcing out the little bit of river water that had got into them. Jack coughed, opened his eyes and tried to gather himself. He was shivering from the cold and lying on a stony beach. He felt his stomach convulse as he tried to get to his feet. He worked hard not to vomit but could not help himself. All of his supper was soon lying on the ground in front of him. Jack wiped his mouth and tried stand.
He saw the familiar trees and sky but something had happened to the river. It had changed somehow. “Dad,” he called out. Jack looked at the morning sun and figured it must be around seven. He knew his dad would be frantic. He looked up the river and down but saw no sign of his father or the island where they had been camping. How far down the river, had the current carried him? Where was he? The familiar survival lessons his dad had taught him kicked into gear.
“The first thing I’ve got to do is get warm,” Jack said aloud. Dressed only in his swimming trunks he knew that would be a big challenge. He started rubbing his arms and legs in an effort to get the blood flowing. “A fire would be a big help.” The young man repeated the steps he and his father went through the night before and made himself a starter pile for his campfire. With no lighter, he looked for two pieces of flint like the ones he saw his father use.
“Here’s to you dad,” Jack said as he struck the rocks together. It was not long before the fire was roaring and he was sitting by it warming himself. Jack backed off a little as he felt his exposed skin getting too hot. His back and chest were scraped and bleeding from lying on the stony beach. His muscles ached from the cold. “Maybe some Spanish Moss would help,” Jack said standing to his feet. He winced from a cramp in his leg. He looked around and saw some long gray clumps of Spanish moss hanging from trees just at the edge of the swamp. He limped on his injured leg and started gathering the gray, hair-like material that would become his bed. Jack kept as close to the camp fire as he could, because he figured that it would not be long before his dad spotted the smoke and came to pick him up.
He stopped as he went to pluck one last clump of moss off the trees. It looked like something had moved in the shadows of the swamp! Jack was not too concerned because he knew the woods teemed with deer. Then he thought, bears, and bobcats too. He eased back towards his camp watching the forest. Jack had a jumble of emotions running through him. The fire cheered him, and the idea of his soon rescue kept him calm, but the creatures in the swamp made him keep nervously looking at the woods. Suddenly he saw a flash of red!
Was it a fox? He thought. Foxes often carried the dreaded Rabies virus. He knew that if he made noise it would generally run off any curious animals, but rabies infected animals came to noise. “Get out of here!” Jack yelled. He stood up to make himself look like a bigger threat to any four footed predators. He saw it again. It looked like a red jacket standing behind a spruce tree just at the edge of the light. He watched as the shadow figure of a man raised a barrel. He heard the hiss of a fuse and smelt suffer.
“Hey,” Jack called. “Don’t!” He yelled with his hands out in front of him as the gun exploded and the bullet ripped into his campfire. Jack jumped back. “Hey man, cut it out!” He said as another shot wised past his ear. “My dad’s coming soon!” Jack warned as he started backing down the beach. Jack could see more red-jacketed figures heading towards him. “He’s got a forty-five with him!” Jack hollered as bullets flew at him. He started running down the gray graveled beach. Jack was running as fast as his cramping leg would let him when the Red Coats came on the beach. They were a hundred yards behind him, so he could not make out any facial expressions. Suddenly he felt another presence and a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him into the swamp.
“Follow me!” he heard a female voice say. Jack’s rescuer did not offer him a chance to refuse. She raced at brake neck speed through the dark swamp pulling him along. They jumped over fallen logs. Thorns scrapped exposed arms, legs, and chest as the two went through briar bushes and around huge mounds of earth. Jack heard the nylon of his swim trunks rip as they raced through cattail bushes and briars. Their feet sloshed through the murky water of the Pee Dee swamp as they ran to elude their pursuers.
“I think it’s safe!” Jack said breathlessly after several minutes without the sound of a
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